The sound of gunshots filled the night, echoing through the silence, and then… Everything went dark. The electricity was gone. The house was plunged into darkness, but the air was thick with fear—the screams of women, the constant sound of gunfire. Ten years old Evan woke up in the middle of his sleep, his heart pounding in his chest.
His eyes flickered open, and there was his mother—on her knees, hands clasped in prayer, tears streaming down her face.
"M-Mom... What's happening? Where's Dad? Did he not come home? Why hasn't he come yet?" Evan cried out, his voice trembling.
His mother didn't answer right away. She just kept praying, her words muffled by the sound of the chaos outside. The gunshots kept coming, one after another. The screams grew louder.
Evan's voice cracked. "Mom… What is that sound? It's like the noise I heard from Dad's training field… Why are they training at this hour? What's happening? Mom, please, tell me!"
His mother, shaking with fear, pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly. She kissed his forehead and whispered, her voice breaking, "Pray to God, son. Pray to God. He's the only one who can hear this outcry now. No one is coming. We called everyone—officials, high-ranking people, even the president's office. But they all turned their backs on us. No one is picking up. They've thrown us into hell."
Evan clung to his mother, tears streaming down his face. Together, they knelt on the floor, their hands folded in prayer. "Pray, my son. Tell God what these monsters are doing."
The entire night was filled with chaos. The gunshots rang out, followed by screams and sirens. Helicopters circled above. It sounded like a massive operation—but it wasn't against the enemy. It was against the very people who had always protected the country, who had kept its people safe.
Evan cried in his mother's arms, whispering to God, praying for the safety of his father, praying for everything to stop. But the night dragged on, and the violence didn't end.
Evan eventually drifted off to sleep, his head resting on his mother's lap, his heart broken with fear. The last thought in his mind was of his father—where was he? Was he safe?
----
The morning light came slowly, as if the sun itself hesitated to rise after such a long night. Evan woke up with a start.
"Mom! Did Dad come home? Is he here?" He rushed to his mother's room, his heart pounding.
There was a heavy silence when he entered the family living. His relatives—his aunts, uncles, and cousins—were all sitting together in the living room. But no one spoke.
Evan looked around frantically. "Where's Mom? Where's Dad?" His voice cracked.
His aunt came to him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Come with me, Evan. Your mother needs you."
She led him to another room, where his mother was sitting beside his grandmother, her face pale and streaked with tears.
"Mom!" Evan cried, his voice desperate. "Didn't Dad come back? Was last night his mission? Why hasn't he come back?"
His mother's face twisted in pain as she pulled him into her arms. "No, sweetheart… The mission last night wasn't your father's. Your dad would never be part of something so horrific. He is a soldier. A true patriot." Her voice cracked, and she broke into sobs.
Evan's eyes widened. "Then where is he, Mom? Where is he?"
His mother broke down, holding him tighter. "I don't know, my love… I don't know. They destroyed everything. They took away lives. They took everything from us."
His grandmother, seeing Evan's distress, spoke gently, "Please, take him to another room. He doesn't need to hear this. It's too much for him."
Evan stumbled back to his room, his mind racing, his heart shattering with every word his mother had said. They destroyed everything. He couldn't process it. What had happened? Where was his father?
In the midst of his confusion, he heard an outcry from outside. He rushed to the balcony, drawn by the noise.
Below, in the street, he saw Mahtab uncle's body, his dad's fellow soldier, lying on a bed, blood staining his clothes. His wife was clinging to his body, crying uncontrollably. He could guess now what had happened last night.
Evan stood frozen, his stomach churning. He hadn't seen this before, but he had heard the stories. He had heard his father speak of it many times. "When a soldier dies, he comes lying, wrapping his body with his country's flag, that means he gave his life for the country. A true soldier's life is never lost. He is a martyr, and his sacrifice is an honor."
His father had often told him, "My love, Baydoun Jr. , if one day I don't come home, don't cry. Don't ask questions. If my body returns, covered in blood and wrapped in the flag of our country, remember your father has given his life for his very own country, so be proud. Stand tall, salute me as a soldier, who was martyred. Take care of your mother, son, if that day ever comes. Can I trust you with her?
And Promise me you'll never bow to anyone. You are the son of a soldier, who never bowed to anyone except God".
Evan's throat tightened as tears welled in his eyes. He stared at Mahtab uncle's body, remembering his father's words, feeling the weight of his promise. He had promised himself that if this day ever came, he would be brave, he would stand tall, and he would honor his father's memory. But as he stood there, in front of the body of a fallen soldier, the emptiness and fear of losing his father crushed him.
He had been prepared, his father had prepared him for this moment. But he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to face a world without his father.
He sank to his knees on the balcony, unable to stop the tears from falling. His father had taught him to be brave, to stand tall, to carry on with honor. But now in his heart, all he could do was pray—pray that this day never comes.
He didn't want to see his father as a martyr. He didn't want to stand proud. He didn't want to salute a lifeless body wrapped in a flag.
No.
He wanted his father alive—standing tall, just as always, open-armed and waiting for him. He wanted to run into his embrace, hear his voice, feel his warmth.
So he prayed.
He prayed that day would never come. Not today. Not ever.